Four Times England Held Massachusetts
by Tabii
Summary: ...and once he didn't. OC!Massachusetts' relationship with England through the centuries. WARNING: DARK!England, Mentions of UKxUS, MAxNY, OCxCANADA.


Four Times England Held Massachusetts and One Time He Didn't

* * *

**ONE**

England's baby girl had promise, he knew it. The paperwork that had heralded her birth that early October morning had established her as the crown colony of Massachusetts. She had her father's cowlick- Nantucket island- and if she had that, she had Boston. The port city was vital for the colony's trade and vital for England's as well.

"Is it healthy?" America asked, still breathless from labour.

"She's perfectly fine, Alfred," England murmured, tucking the baby into the colony's arms, "What shall we name her?"

"Sarah… Sarah Kirkland."

* * *

**TWO**

He was proud to find that whenever his children scraped a knee, or were stung by a wasp, or wedged a splinter in their foot, it was never the handful of maids or nurses that had been hired to help run the household that they ran to, but him.

"England, England, it hurts!" Massachusetts cried as her father gently wrapped her hand in linen after she had burned it on the stove.

"I know, poppet. Just a moment longer, there now…"

Finished administering medical attention to his fifth child, England scooped her up into his arms.

"Hush… you're a big girl now, aren't you? You look like you're almost seven. You shouldn't be crying over a silly little burn…"

She sniffled as the empire kissed the top of her head.

"Yes, England. I'm sorry."

"There's my poppet. Now… I seem to recall that there was to be a new dress for you? Let's get you measured."

* * *

**THREE**

"Come now, be reasonable…"

Massachusetts silently turned her face away from her captor to look out the window. Spring was coming. She could see the birds flying over the garden, if only she had wings. She'd fly out of this room, if only she could…

"You didn't really think you'd get away scot free after that little tea party you had without me…"

England gripped the colony's shoulders painfully tight.

"Did you, _Sarah_?"

His voice in her ear was too close, too low and too sultry for propriety. Massachusetts wanted to slap him. But he'd enjoy that reaction; he'd take that act of violence and return it tenfold, so she kept her face stoic and her posture rigid, as if posing for a portrait.

"You forget, _poppet_, that Father can wait. You, your sibling, and your so-called 'Papa' will be crushed like ants. Maybe then you will remember your place."

* * *

**FOUR**

England inwardly breathes a sigh of relief as he sees both mother and child resting peacefully in the large bed. This is his moment. His time to begin to repair some things that desperately need repairing. For the world's sake. For his sake.

For his daughter's sake.

"You look just the same as Alfred did the day you were born."

Massachusetts looks up.

"Arthur. How good of you to come," she says coolly, her green eyes tired, but threatening to throw a glare his way if he so much as breathes wrong. He takes her acknowledgment, chilly as it is, as a benediction to come in and pulls a chair up to her bedside.

"Well, it is Canada's child as well."

The words are out of England's mouth before he can stop them. He didn't mean them like that, not at all. What was he supposed to say? "I'm here because you're still my daughter even though you've gone through great motions to remove yourself from me?" Talking to his former colonies is like pissing up a rope.

"Go visit Canada then!"

The underlying _hurt_ surprises England more than the words delivered. He hasn't heard Massachusetts use that tone of voice since she was nothing but a small colony, jealous when the empire paid more attention to Virginia or Maryland.

The baby wakes at his mother's shout, and Massachusetts makes a great show of turning her back to England to comfort the new state. She still looks vulnerable.

Massachusetts goes uncomfortably stiff when England wraps his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, trying to keep his voice steady, "So, so sorry…"

Maybe someday things will get better.

* * *

**ONE**

'_She still looks sick. Damn recession. Of course, she did have the Big Dig…' _England thinks to himself as he watches Massachusetts across the table. She's enthusiastically telling an embarrassing about New York while simultaneously trying to make excuses for the other state's behavior. England smiles. Anyone can see that those two have feelings for each other, especially after the attacks of September 11th. He supposes it isn't too dissimilar from his relationship with America, especially in the days just after World War Two.

The restaurant they've decided to meet at fits Massachusetts to a T: Slightly antiquated, but in a stylish way, with newer details. The menu is similarly contrasting- comfort food given a modern-day boot with organic ingredients and vegan options.

There's a lull in the conversation, and Massachusetts' eyes drift out the window, gazing out at the harbour. Melancholy threatens to pull the corners of her mouth into a frown. England places his calloused hand over her smaller, but no less scared one, bringing his daughter back to the present.

"It's in the past, love," he says quietly, but as sincerely as he can manage, "We've both changed, wouldn't you say? I couldn't hurt you now, even if I wanted to."

"I know, England."

Her statement is soft, but the punch it packs is immense. He hasn't heard those words from her mouth in two hundred and thirty five years.

"M-Mass..."

Her phone rings, killing the moment. With a grimace, Massachusetts checks the caller ID, then produces a pen from her purse and scribbles on a napkin, pushing it across the table to England:

'_Sorry, I have to take this,' _he reads in her spidery hand, _'It's Aaron. He says it's important.'_

England nods.

"We'll talk more at your house, love."

Massachusetts hurries off, leaving money for the check, tip and England's cab ride home on the table. Moments later, he gets a text message, the cheerful ring already identifying the sender as America.

"Guess who's getting a ring on her finger 2nite?"

For once, England is glad to let his children go.

* * *

**_Notes:_**

-I'm basing the original thirteen's birthdays on when they became "crown colonies" (more or less the states we know today). Massachusetts has about nine older siblings, four of them England's, two of them are the Netherlands' and three of them are Prussia's. They will probably be introduced in other fics here and there.

-England captured Boston for about a year during the revolution. Here, he's keeping Massachsetts because how else would he Boston under his thumb?

-I spell 'labor' and 'harbor' the "British" way (with a U) and have since I was a small child. Don't ask me why, I read the Harry Potter books a lot, I guess...

-Maine used to be a part of Massachusetts until the mid-1800's. Head-cannon says he is Canada's baby.

-I ship NYxMA. They're both just really, really tsundere.

A/N: I hope you liked this! There's more to come in this universe, so please leave a review!


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